


I'm Waiting

by Greyblue



Category: Black Survival (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Where are all the fanfics in this fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12764109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greyblue/pseuds/Greyblue
Summary: this fandom is too small for me to write a summary anyways who tf reads these





	I'm Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Freesia- Innocence, Trust, Friendship and Sweetness.  
> I just thought the flowers in the game looked a lot like freesias. 
> 
> I also wrote this at some crazy hour of the morning.

Two years since they left Lumia Island together, Twenty Two months since Alex promised he’d be back. They had somehow ran away and ended up hiding on some small island off the side to nowhere before moving somewhere onto the mainland. The locals were kind enough to them, letting them stay up the road in a small house overlooking the cliff and out to the sea. It reminded him of the Chapel on Lumia island. 

He had gotten a picture of both of them a week after they left, free. It was framed on the kitchen table, where he’d eat alone. Every morning he’d wake up hoping Alex would be back today- he tracked flights from Russia where he’d expect Alex to come back from but none of them docked into their small town. It wasn’t much to cook two breakfasts, he could always just eat the other for lunch, efficiency after all. 

Sometimes he’d climb down the cliff and watch the boats, trying to spot the telltale orange-yellow of Alex’s hair. But the only things of that shade were festival boat flags. He wasn’t lonely, not at all, but sometimes he just felt his bed was a bit too empty. The seawater was always cold, salty, and the seabreeze would make his hair terribly stiff. Jp swung his legs over the dock ledge into the water, pretending Alex was next to him. Feet buried in sand and sitting close to each other, hidden from view. Even though whoever was watching probably knew. They had to kill each other but it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy their time together. Alex would always pick up a freesia from one of the wilder areas he hardly visited and stick it into his hair. 

Their first kiss was bittersweet- somewhere hidden on the trail overlooking the city scenery. Alex had their lips pressed together when all of a sudden a bitter coppery taste filled his mouth as well and Alex coughed, pushing him away. JP looked down to see a bullet wound coming out of Alex’s chest but Alex gasped for him to run, and he was gone. The second time around he found Alex and kissed him, himself. Seemed like Alex had no recollection of himself initiating the kiss the first time. 

Bittersweet, but somehow they ended up together every time. 

He only prayed fate would give him Alex one more time. The boy picked at his toenails and sighed to himself. Five pm, evening meant sunset but he never watched it alone. The sunset orange hue only reminded him of Alex and made his heart heavier.   
\----  
Alex had promised to send him postcards of where he went. He had gotten a few, sandwiched with dried bright yellow flowers, but the last one he had gotten was stamped sometime in November in London. He could only wait for Alex to be done, be free, wherever he was. He tried to not dwell on the bad things like how maybe Alex died, or worse, dragged back to the island. But they had escaped once together and he could only hope for the best.

 

It only took another snowy winter and a rainy spring until he heard footsteps behind him. His heart was in his throat when he felt Alex standing close to his back. Was it Alex? He turned around from his perch on the docks and yes, Alex, but rather ragged looking. His hair was not the same shiny sheen of orange, and he was covered in quite a bit of dirt. 

“I’m home, lapochka.”

 

The man dropped the bouquet of freesia he had gotten somewhere into JP’s arms. JP happily cradled them and pulled Alex into a hug- was this real? 

“Why these.” The boy gestured at the flowers, almost squashing them in his tight grip. 

“They remind me of you.”

Three years since they left- and god knows how many years since he met Alex. But there was no war- nothing, no info on the island he had left. And Alex was here, finally. Tears streamed down his face and Alex just held him tighter, hoisting him up off the rickety old wood. 

“I’m home, don’t cry, I’m real.”


End file.
